


now is your beginning

by jaufea



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: FUCK ME UP!!! OH MY GOD, Introspection, M/M, Moving In Together, NOW WITH ADDED YUURI PERSPECTIVE!, viktor thinking about how depressed he was and how fucking much he loves yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 02:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8951080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaufea/pseuds/jaufea
Summary: "What are you thinking about?" Yuuri says, pulling Viktor from his thoughts."How much I love you," he answers easily, "and how much I love having you here."Yuuri's smile could raise the dead.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yuuri on Ice is a phenomenal series. Honestly, I am at a loss for words at how the ending made me feel. But I'm especially happy that Yuuri is in Russia, and I was thinking about how barren and lacking Viktor's apartment was and thus this introspection was born.
> 
> Title is from Otabek's free skate narration that made me fucking cry omfg
> 
> ALSO IT'S 3AM SORRY FOR ANY MISTAKES

St. Petersburg used to be the dreariest place Viktor could imagine.

Russia was cold and damp, uncomfortable, the air hung thick like Viktor could ring it out if he wanted to. It was stale. It didn't matter it was where he was born, grew up, trained, where he had his legacy. It wasn't home. It wasn't anything. There was nothing there for him.

That is, until Katsuki Yuuri barreled into his life, drunk out of his mind, and shining so much brighter than the boy who had so terribly failed his Grand Prix routines. It wasn't anything like what he felt now, not even an inkling, but it was certainly a decent beginning. That was the first time in years- hell, even _ever-_ that Viktor didn't want to let go. This boy who had regarded him so coldly only hours before was sweeping him off his feet faster than he could even keep up, and he thought that would be the last time he saw him, a threat of Yuuri's retirement looming over him as he coordinated his programs to themes of love like a schoolgirl with a bad crush.

And now here we was. A year later, laying on the couch in that old, stuffy apartment with the drunk boy of his dreams, watching as he puts another framed picture of them on his dusty old bookshelf. It feels like home. 

Of course, everywhere he goes with Yuuri feels like home. Hasetsu, their plentiful hotel rooms, a dusty old bench in Barcelona, but nothing so fully like this. He has never been so proud to call something his before, someone his.

As if reading his thoughts, Yuuri pads over from admiring the picture he had just placed down- a shot from the day Yuuri had moved in, Viktor kissing his cheek in the foreground and Yurio looking disgusted, yet suspiciously happy in the background. Viktor loves that picture. Yuuri's overjoyed face is one of his favorite things.

"What are you thinking about?" Yuuri asks, pulling Viktor from his thoughts. He's perched on the end of the sofa, in the small spot not occupied by Viktor's legs while he's laying across it. Viktor reaches out, a well known invitation to Yuuri by now, who flops into his open arms, balancing on either side of Viktor's head on his elbows. Viktor brushes an errant lock of hair out of his eyes.

"How much I love you," he answers easily, cupping Yuuri's cheek, "and how much I love having you here."

Yuuri's smile could raise the dead, and the surprised blush on his cheeks never gets old or goes away, no matter how many times they say it to each other. "I love you, too," he says, soft, and thunks his head right down on Viktor's chest, letting his weight settle over him. Viktor's hands move to Yuuri's hair, threading his fingers through it, and suddenly he's swamped with sickly sweet thoughts, and a sentiment so full of meaning, it feels tangible.

Viktor has never felt this swell of emotion before Yuuri. This all encompassing, complete feeling of being adored, loved, needed. It's suffocating, but not like the stuffy air in his old apartment. It's overwhelmingly satisfying, like the first time he landed a quad flip, but more expansive. This isn't a passing thrill, an adrenaline rush. It's bigger than that, massive like the ocean and flowing like a stream and he thinks, _I would do absolutely anything for you._

Yuuri's hair is soft. Yuuri is soft. His weight is comforting, reassuring. Viktor feels like he's about to start crying, and he inhales, trying to breathe himself through this wave. Yuuri reaches out to stroke a thumb over his cheek, smiling down at him. Viktor beams, blinking away the wetness at his eyes as Yuuri presses a soft kiss to his nose and buries his face in the junction between Viktor's neck and shoulder, just barely exposed by his shirt.

"It looks lived in, now," Yuuri mumbles, looking around the room without moving his head from it's spot tucked comfortably into Viktor's neck, "you barely had anything here."

Viktor hums, because Yuuri is right. His medals were thrown haphazardly into a drawer, so many pictures stashed away. "I wasn't really living for anything," he replies, punctuating it with another pass through Yuuri's hair. 

"Not even your career?"

He almost scoffs, almost laughs, but instead Viktor shakes his head, slowly so he doesn't stir Yuuri too much. "You're the reason I'm even returning, it just wasn't exciting anymore. I've already told you. But now, I have two records to take back, and a fiance to take care of." Yuuri hums, stroking up Viktor's arms and gazing around at his new home, as if he hasn't already been there for nearly a week.

He turns to look with Yuuri, too. His once bare apartment now holds so much of Yuuri's personality. There's photos of them from Phichit's instagram and his own phone, there's Yuuri's trophies on the bookcase. His Grand Prix silver medal is framed in a shadowbox.

Honestly, Viktor is almost nowhere to be found in this apartment, and if he weren't lying on the couch with Yuuri gathered in his arms, his name on the lease, you'd think he didn't belong there at all. 

But he's there anyway. He is back in St. Petersburg, with the love of his life, sleepily running his fingers through his hair, and he realizes the only place he belongs is next to, under, over, around Yuuri. He wouldn't give this up for anything in the world. Not for all his records back, not to keep them forever, they mean nothing in the prospect of forever with Yuuri. Yuuri, who's falling asleep on his chest as he thinks, breathing steadily and tired from unpacking his boxes and suitcases. Yuuri, who is tracing lazy patterns that are getting slower and slower into Viktor's shoulders with his fingertips. His sleepy fiance, heart as fragile as glass but made of gold, his absolute everything. Viktor wants to kiss him senseless and hold him gently at the same time, Yuuri's soft breath ghosting over his collarbones.

He settles for the latter, letting his eyes slip closed as he tightens his arms around Yuuri's back. 

This is enough. This is more than enough. Everything is here for him, now, in his too-expensive apartment, with his ethereal soon-to-be-husband dozing angelically on top of him. He thinks, fleetingly, that he will never need anything more in his life.

And then, he remembers he at _least_ still has to have the wedding, and another ring to match. Then, that would be enough.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fast forward a year later. Yuuri finds himself in Russia, in the wee hours of the morning, stirred awake by his fiancé.
> 
> Still his idol. Still his celebrity crush, but now more. His coach. His best friend, better half, love of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you didn't expect a chapter two! Lol. Happy birthday Viktor. This is barely a birthday fic but eh. I wrote this little drabble to compliment this fic, and decided I may as well post it :)
> 
> THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH for the kind kind comments, know that I really really appreciate them. They make my day!!!

Love is... something that Yuuri is fairly new to.

Of course, he had a loving family and a dog that adored him. He had an idol he was gaining ground on and a dream he was fulfilling. He had a best friend and a coach, both of whom supported him unconditionally. But, he never had someone who completed him, complimented him. Yuuri didn't know true love, the swell of a heart, and wouldn't if it slapped him across the face.

Well, it turns out he woukd recognize it if it showed up in his family's onsen, naked, in the form of Viktor Nikiforov, barreling into his life. Uninvited (or so he remembers), but completely welcome. 

Yuuri would be a liar to say that it wasn't a fantasy turned reality, something he not-so-jokingly wished for when blowing out birthday candles, his first thought upon seeing a shooting star, like a lifelong dream suddenly realized. His idol- the man his life was modeled after- in the flesh, offering to be his coach. Yuuri could have died, he feels like he almost did. Actually, he might have. How else could something this spectacular happen to him? 

Instead of pinching himself, Yuuri worked his ass off. If dream-Viktor was here, he would do whatever it took to make dream-Viktor happy. But the ache in his legs and back and arms after long days of practice told him this was real, this was real. He was about to train under, _skate_ with, Viktor Nikiforov, five time world champion figure skater, lifetime celebrity crush.

Fast forward a year later. Yuuri finds himself in Russia, in the wee hours of the morning, stirred awake by his fiancé.

Still his idol. Still his celebrity crush, but now more. His coach. His best friend, better half, love of his life. The idea would have sent his younger self into a tizzy, and it still does now, but it's dizzying and intoxicating in the best ways. It's 3:12am in St. Petersburg being woken up because Viktor pulls Yuuri in to spoon him in his sleep, chest pressed against his back, nosing into his growing hair. It's 9:30am, alarm beep beep beeping softly in the background as Viktor wakes him up with a soft press of lips to the nape of his neck, fingers and lengs tangled together. It's 2:27pm in a café, Viktor running his thumb along Yuuri's knuckles as they browse the menu. It's 8:54pm, dinner dishes done, huddled up on the couch with Makkachin and a movie. It's home. It's mind meltingly, head spinningly domestic. And it's his. It's theirs.

He knows that swell of the heart now, too, better than he knows how to land a quad flip. It's an almost constant, dull ache, punctuated by Viktor's lips on his forehead, hands on his hips, his compliments and declarations of love swirling all around him. It's 12:26am, his heart beating painfully as he realizes he's dozed off during their movie and Viktor's picked him up bridal style to carry him to their shared bed. It's back to 3:12am, Viktor breathing softly, evenly in his ear and Yuuri wondering how on earth he got so, so lucky. How, despite everything, this is where he's ended up, tucked safely into this beautiful man's arms, in his too-high thread count sheets, cozy and soft and sleepy. 

He turns in Viktor's arms to face him, brushing stray hair from his eyes. Viktor cracks an eye open. Yuuri smiles.

"I adore you," he whispers. Viktor grabs his hand and kisses his knuckles.

"And I, you, but the sun isn't even up," he replies, voice low and thick with sleep, "go back to sleep, _moya lyubov."_

"Aren't you going to say it back?" Yuuri teases, eyes drawing closed again, but he feels Viktor draw him closer, lips next to his ear.

"I love you so much," he begins, "that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. It's the only thing I need. As long as you're with me, everythings okay. So yes," he kisses the shell of Yuuri's ear and Yuuri _shivers,_ Viktor drawing away to push Yuuri's hair back. "I adore you. I am smitten. You've taken a firm hold of my heart and I hope you never intend to let go, _solnyshka."_

Yuuri doesn't respond. Then, "You're right, it's too early for this," and buries his face in the crook of Viktor's neck as he snickers and hugs him tightly, drifting back to sleep.

\--

It's 11:43am, and both Yuuri and Viktor refuse to untangle themselves from under the sheets, from each other, instead mumbling endearments into each others hair, tracing meaningless pictures into each others skin.

Yuuri thinks, this is what life is supposed to be.

"By the way," Yuuri breathes into his hair, "happy birthday. What's your wish?"

Viktor hums. "I already got my wish," squeezing Yuuri's arm. Yuuri's smile is radiant.

"You're so cheesy."

"I know."

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter @_jaufea  
> Tumblr @jaufeaa


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